Paradise
by Henrika Fanfiction
Summary: Attending a conference on a tropical island, sets Christian Grey up for an unforgettable night.
1. Chapter 1

Another tedious seminar over and... One, two, three to go. He counts the remaining seminars he has signed up for, and hopes for the following speakers to be better. Just go to a few seminars, and write it off as company expense, they told him. Have fun in the sun the rest of the time, they said. So far, it's been mind-numbing. I could've taken a webinar, sitting on my couch at home for this shit, he thinks, throwing one of the many pamphlets he was given, in the bin.

Passing the vast lobby of the Paradise, he heads towards the elevators. With the rest of the day off, taking a tour of the island and a dip in the ocean sounds like a perfect plan.

He hesitates before stepping into the crowded elevator, but after taking a deep breath he pushes himself in between the chubby, pale men in Hawaiian shirts, and sunburned old ladies. As the salty aroma of the sea, mixed with alcohol and cheap perfume hits him, he makes a mental note to take the stairs the next time.

Standing in front of his hotel room he searches his pockets for the key.

"Where did I put that damned card?" He mutters and freezes.

"Oh, fuck!" He hits the door as he recalls putting the card in between the last pamphlet he was given.

Heading back the corridor, he passes the elevator and opts for the stairs. Running down as fast as his feet can take him, he reaches the lobby in no time, and bolts to the bin in which he threw his pamphlets.

"No fucking way!" He stares at the empty bin.

"Some fucking quick cleaners they have over here." He mutters, gaining a few confused looks from group of ladies walking nearby.

The receptionist looks at him with a huge smile plastered on her pretty face, as he approaches the desk.

"Good day, sir. How may I help you?"

"I've... Um... I seem to have lost my key."

"I'll need your name, and room number, sir."

He glances at the name tag with his name and picture, hanging from his chest pocket. Not the brightest bulb on the porch, he thinks.

"Grey, Christian Grey. And I'm in room 313." Donald Duck's license plate number, easy to remember.

"Just a moment, Mr. Grey, and we'll replace your key. The old key, if you would happen to find it, will not work any longer."

"Thank you."

By the time he reaches the hotel room and manages to get in, the sightseeing tour has left and he's left to mend for himself for the rest of the afternoon. Taking off his dress shirt and straight pinstripe trousers, he changes to baggy shorts and a tee. He rummages through his bag until he finds his sandals and throws them on the carpeted floor. Better hit the can, before going out, he decides and he walks over to the en suite bathroom barefoot, only to realize that the carpet is wet and squishy beneath him. "What the hell?"

Pushing the bathroom door open, he sees the floor covered with water. "Just fucking perfect."

Dialing 0, on the phone by the bed he gets through to the hotel reception.

"Reception"

"This is Christian Grey, from 313, there's a leakage in my room. The whole bathroom is soaked."

"We'll send someone up immediately, sir." He hangs up.

"Fucking Paradise, my ass. They should've named it Hell." He mutters and throws all his stuff into his bag waiting for someone to come to check on his room.

A few hours later Christian is standing by the reception as the manager is typing on the computer.

"We are so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. But I'm pleased to tell you, that we managed to arrange a replacement room for you, and we hope you'll enjoy the rest of your stay here at Paradise. Here is your key, sir. Your luggage has already been taken there. Just take the door on the left and follow the signs." The manager gives him a warm smile.

Christian looks at the key and sighs before picking it up and walking in the direction the manager pointed him. He looks at the signs, and almost loses faith before he sees the sign pointing the direction for the rooms 101-105.

He walks a narrow stone path, surrounded by plants and palm trees. The moist tropical heat engulfs him, and the scent of flowers and sounds of birds attack all his senses. The path takes a turn and descends towards the ocean. Where is my room? In a shed in the middle of the fucking rainforest? He ponders as the path becomes even tighter. Soon he arrives at a bungalow with 105 written in bronze numbers on the door. He looks at his key, and continues further along the path until he reaches the bungalow with the number 101.

The key fits the lock and he can't believe his luck as he takes in his new room, aka a private bungalow on the beach. The entrance opens up to a spacious living room, with enormous windows towards the ocean that makes you feel like you are sitting right there on the beach. He walks to the window, slides open the glass door and steps out onto the wooden patio situated on just few feet from the sand. The warm heat and the salty ocean air wash over him and he doesn't even try to hide the wide smile on his lips. Now this is more like it!

Going back in to check that his luggage is indeed already there, he sees the plate of fruit and the tall glass drink poured for him with the note sating: Enjoy your stay in Paradise.

Taking his drink and the fruit to the patio, he sits down in the sun chair, kicks off his sandals and smiles as he watches a group of women in skimpy bikinis walking along the beach. Now _this_ is paradise, he thinks and lifts his glass to toast the world.

After a few drinks he decides to take a stroll on the beach. Leaving his shirt and sandals on the patio he takes the chance to get some much needed sun to his torso. Having naturally golden brown skin, thanks to the mixture of races somewhere down his bloodline, gives him the advantage of becoming tanned by the mere sight of the sun.

He walks along the waterline, enjoying the warmth, and the ladies sunbathing top-less. A beach vendor selling cool beer is nearby, so Christian, digging for coins in his pockets, waves him over.

"Enjoying Paradise, my man?" the young man asks, taking out an ice cold beer from his cool box.

"Starting to."

"First day here?"

"Yeah..."

"Trust me, man. It doesn't get better than Paradise."

"If you say so, I'll take your word for it. What do I owe you for the beer?"

" 'S on the house, my man, on the house."

"Well, alright then. Thanks."

Christian continues walking until he reaches the end of the beach belonging to the Paradise. He leaves the part reserved for hotel guests and heads towards the part of the beach where the locals go. The music leads him to a bar on the border of the beach where a group of dark skinned beauties are already dancing to the music playing in the background.

He goes to the bar and sits down waving to the bartender with long dreadlocks and a bunch of different colored bracelets on his wrists to come over.

"What can I get you?"

"I don't know... Something local?" Christian frowns looking at the long colorful line of liquor bottles on the wall.

"One rum and coke coming up then." The bartender winks, his gold tooth shining as he smiles widely.

"You' on vacation?" The bartender asks as he gives Christian the drink.

"No, I'm attending the conference at Paradise."

"Really? You don't look like it."

Christian takes that as a compliment, remembering the pale guys in Hawaiian shirts and white socks with sandals he encountered in the elevator.

"Thanks." Christian grins at the bartender.

Chitchatting with the bartender while sipping one drink after another, he starts feeling that soft buzz of the alcohol he's consumed, and he starts to relax. The crowd around him grows, as the sunset approaches. The bartender has no longer time to chat, so Christian turns around in his chair, and looks at the people in the bar, now jam-packed with locals, with only a few odd white, well more like lobster red, tourists in between. Taking his fourth or fifth, he has lost count, rum and coke with him, he walks past the crowded dance floor to the deserted beach and sits down in the sand staring into nowhere, lost in thoughts.

A pair of pretty feet, with red nail polish and a charm anklet walk into his sight. He lifts his gaze, trailing up the tanned legs, the large scarf, tied only behind her neck, wrapped around her well-formed body, until he reaches the ocean blue eyes of the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

"Mind if I join you?" She asks already sitting down next to him, the gap in the scarf revealing more of her toned legs, and a glimpse of her black bikini bottom, before she straightens it again.

He smiles at her and shrugs. She's already sitting, so I guess I don't mind, he thinks, but doesn't say anything.

"Cat stole your tongue?" She asks, looking at him.

"Nope, I'm just not much of a talker I guess."

"Yeah... Me neither." She draws mindless circles and waves in the sand between her feet as silence falls between them.

"So." They say simultaneously, pause and laugh.

"Ladies first." He says.

"Oh, polite. I like it." The moonlight sparkles in her eyes as she smiles at him. "I've been looking at you from over there for a while and you seem a bit lonely."

"Lonely?"

"Yeah... Are you alone, or are you waiting for someone?"

"I'm all alone."

"No you're not." She giggles, and he looks at her and frowns.

"I'm not?"

"I'm here with you."

He chuckles and toasts her, sipping his drink, until he realizes she doesn't have a drink.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"I'll drink what you're having."

He turns around to wave to the waitress but she stops him by laying her hand on his arm. The touch of her hand surprises him, and the electricity between them renders him silent.

"No. You understood me wrong. I'll have what you're having." She reaches over his lap and takes the glass he laid down on the other side. Her hair falls to his chest and he can't resist breathing in her delicious scent.

"Oh. Okay." He watches her lift his glass to her plump red lips and drink, closing her eyes, humming appreciatively as she puts the glass down between them.

"Now that's a good Cuba Libre."

"Can I get you one?" He asks taking a sip from the glass making sure he uses the same spot as she did.

"I prefer yours. You know, to stay on the safe side." She nudges him with her shoulder making his breathing quicker.

"Are you from around here?" He asks, trying to make conversation, way beyond his comfort zone.

"Nah... I'm on vacation. What brings you here?"

"I'm attending the conference at the Paradise." He waves towards the hotel.

"Oh, that's a nice hotel."

"Yeah, so people keep telling me. So far I've just been bored senseless at a seminar. Watching paint dry would've been more interesting. And the rest of the day hasn't been much better... Well until now."

She looks at him, her eyes' shine competing with the smile on her lips, as she stands up, she offers him her hands.

"Come dance with me."

"Here?"

"Yes here, I love this song."

Before he can say anything, he is already up and her arms are wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his naked chest. He places his hands around her waist, resting them just above her round, perfectly shaped bottom. The outside world ceases to exists, their universe consisting only of the two of them swaying gently on the moonlit beach to the rhythm of the music.

She moves her hips, grinding against him without even realizing it. He spreads his fingers keeping his hands low on the small of her back, the edge of the bikini bottoms beneath his fingers. Her breath hits his skin as she sings along. "Hoy es noche de sexo... Y voy a a cumplir tus fantasias..." His body is reacting to her. Her touch alone, is making his blood rush south and the words she's singing are not helping things. He might not be an expert in Spanish, but noche de sexo, doesn't really leave much room for misinterpretation.

A breeze blows from the ocean giving them both goose bumps, but they can't tell if it's from the chill or from the electricity cracking between their bodies.

He holds her tighter as she plays with the hair in his neck. She looks up at him and her eyes are burning with desire matching the roaring fire within him. In a heartbeat, his lips crash on hers, the sweet warmth of her mouth is welcoming him to a sensual tango of tongues.

She pulls him in the direction of the Paradise, and he follows her. He would follow her to hell, at this point. They stop every few feet to kiss and fondle, both of them groping the other as much as they can while in sight of people.

They get to a secluded part of the beach, just out of sight from the bar and from the hotel.

"No one can see us here." He says as he lets her lips go. She looks around and nods. They fall onto the sand, their kiss so deep you can't tell where one begins and the other ends.

He lies on her, his feet between hers and as they kiss he grinds his erection against her bikini glad pussy.

He kisses her neck, enjoying her exotic scent as he trails from beneath her ear, licking and tasting her, down to her breasts covered only by the triangles of her bikini.

Her nipples pucker under his touch and he pushes the fabric aside to savor a taste of her perfectly formed breasts. Circling her nipple with his tongue, makes her arch her back, and as he gently tugs on it with his teeth she moans and threads her fingers through his hair. He takes his sweet time with her breasts, suckling on the soft skin, knowing it'll leave a mark. God knows how long it's been since he has last laid his hands on such perfection, and he's not sure he ever will again. The parted scarf gives perfect access to her body, and he continues his kisses down her tummy towards the border of her bikini.

"May I?" He looks up at her from between her legs.

"Uh huh." She nods and squirms as he finds the lines holding the tiny pieces of fabric together. Slowly, he unties her bikini bottom and shoves it into his pocket, while admiring the perfection laid out in front of him. The smooth tanned skin, laying on the colorful scarf, her chest heaving, and her lip caught between her teeth, as her eyes burn dark with desire... His gaze explores her body until it reaches the thin trail of hair that points him to the treasure glistening in the moonlight.

Scooting back in the sand, Christian leans down and inhales, closing his eyes as he smells her arousal, his own erection bordering on painful, now throbbing hard inside his shorts.

Kissing along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs he moves closer, his tongue delicately making contact with her swollen clit. She moans shamelessly as he changes the careful approach to a strong, hot, wet devouring of her pussy.

Her screams drown in the thunder of the waves hitting to shore as she orgasms beneath his expert mouth. He moves up, opening his shorts to give his aching manhood much needed space, and kisses her, to silence the last moans with his lips. Her taste in his tongue mixes with the sweet taste of her mouth and all conscious thoughts disappear.

"I need to be inside you." He pants as he lifts his lips from hers and looks at her, her cheeks gloving, her lipstick smudged and her eyes half closed.

"Let me." She says pushing him off her, until his back is in the sand.

She arranges the bikini, hiding her perk nipples from sight before she straddles him, her wetness covering him as she sits there and looks down on him. Her fingers trail over his abs and he's thankful that he has been doing his workout. She tugs on his nipples, leans over and licks one as she looks at him through her lashes, her hair hanging down tickling his chest. She rocks her hips, gliding over his cock, without penetration, and his eyes turn into his head.

Her lips leave his skin, as she sits up, and the sudden loss of warmth makes him shiver.

She lifts herself up and catches his heavy length in her hands, softly squeezing and pumping him before placing the head of his cock at her entrance. She wiggles and the top slips in. Her warm, wet heat feels like heaven and Christian can't help the moan rolling from deep within him as she places her hands on his chest and finally sinks onto his full length.

Her hips grind away, his cock being massaged and squeezed as she picks up the pace, obviously hitting all the right places judging on the look on her face. Pure pleasure. He grabs her ass and feels her muscles working as they stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. She leans down and kisses him.

Grabbing her neck, he holds her close as he flips them over, to give him a chance to fuck her with the skill and passion he's been holding back. The slapping of skin accelerates and soon they are lost devouring each other as their bodies pulse together, him emptying all he's got deep inside her.

"Stay with me tonight?" He asks, looking into her eyes as their breathing evens.

A smile plays on her lips.

"Okay, I'll stay with you. Here? Or are we going to your hotel room?"

"I'll show you." He kisses her once more before getting up and tucking his now flaccid member into his shorts. He watches her tie her scarf around her waist, her full breasts barely covered by her bikini top.

"You want these?" Christian holds out the bikini bottoms.

She smiles and shakes her head.

"No, they're all sandy and wet, I'm fine like this, well, as long as it doesn't blow too much anyway."

They walk towards his bungalow hand in hand, walking on the waterline, their feet sinking into the wet sand in between the waves that reach them.

"What a perfect night to go swim." Christian says gazing towards the nearly full moon that's spreading a pale blue light over the quiet beach.

"It is, isn't it? Too bad we down have towels, it might get a bit chilly walking around wet." She says, stepping a few steps further into the water.

"I don't mind," he says with a cheeky grin, lifting her up and running into the warm ocean.

She squeals and laughs as he dumps her into the waves and dives to touch the bottom before coming back up.

"I can't believe you did this." She feigns frustration, but is grinning widely.

"Me neither." He catches her and kisses her deeply while the waves rock them back and forth.

"You taste salty." She says, her lips still on his.

"You taste like heaven, and I'm not just talking about this." He trails his fingers over her lips and she blushes.

After a few minutes of swimming and diving they head towards the shore.

"So, how far do we have to walk?" She says, shivering as the breeze chills her wet skin.

"Not too far." He wraps his arms around her, turning her towards the bungalow a mere fifty feet away.

"That's your room?"

"Uh huh." He replies kissing her shoulder. "It's a long story, involving a college graduate passing out in the shower, hence causing a flood in my room. This is the replacement."

He gets out the soaked key from his pocket and unlocks the door.

Her jaw drops as she sees the interior.

"This is amazing!" She peaks into every room before disappearing into the bathroom and squealing as she sees the bathtub.

Leaving the tub to get filled, she walks over to Christian who is leaning by the door, watching her.

She turns her back to him, and lifts her wet hair up.

"Help me with this."

He swallows and swiftly untangles the knot, admiring the texture of her skin in the gentle light.

"There you go." He watches in the mirror as the top falls off revealing her beautiful breasts.

She is oblivious to the effect she has on him. Her hands go to the soaked scarf, but he lays his hands on hers.

"Let me." He uses her words from before. He unwraps her, like a delicate present, careful not to break the magic of the moment.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, her perfectly naked body on display in front of him.

Good god, she is perfect, he thinks as he spreads his fingers on her skin, watching the mesmerizing view in the mirror. He sees the hickey he did on her breast and smiles, at least she'll remember him for a few days.

The bath is filled enough so she pushes herself from him, switches off the faucet and leans over to check the temperature.

"Let me get something." Christian disappears to the kitchen, leaving her to enjoy the warm water, while he prepares a little snack for them.

"Champagne?" He asks carrying an ice-bucket with a bottle of Bollinger and two glasses. In the other hand he has a plate with some saltines, cheese, fruit and berries.

She moves to the side of the tub, taking the plate from him and placing it on the wide stone edge. He puts the bucket down and she reaches for the waist of the wet shorts he's still wearing.

"Loose these, and join me." She orders and he is only too happy to comply.

The water is warm, but feels scalding on his cool skin as he climbs into the tub, acutely aware of being butt naked in front of the angel leaning back, watching his every move.

Toasting with champagne, snacking on saltines and fruit, sharing a decadent strawberry or two directly of each others' lips, they spend an hour slowly turning up the sexual tension until it becomes too much to take.

The bathroom is a wet mess as they are desperately trying to get as much skin on skin contact as possible. They kiss and fondle, crashing to walls and doors making their way to the bedroom, to the awaiting king-sized bed.

Once there, she takes matters into her own hands and slides down his body, gripping his thick cock in her hands, gently squeezing before licking him like a Popsicle and sucking him into her mouth. She cups his balls with her hands and flicks her tongue over the bundle of nerves by the top of his cock. He breathes deeply, hissing an out-stretched _Yes_, and his reaction to her touch heightens her own level of arousal. Looking him in the eyes, she takes him as deep as possible and he desperately fights the urge to grab her head and fuck her mouth.

Letting go of him, she crawls onto the edge of the bed and stays on all four. He stands behind her, drops to his knees and tastes her again, the surprising move making her yelp. Pushing his fingers inside her, he spreads her juices around in preparation.

"Told you... De-fucking-licious." He says as he stands up and pops his fingers into his mouth.

She takes a deep breath as he sinks into her, going balls deep in one swift thrust.

She is spread open in front of him, and he is thoroughly enjoying the view, watching his cock disappear into her with a quickening pace.

He knows it won't be long before she's ready to blow, so he pulls out and turns her around, lifts her legs up, hooking her knees around his arms as he tilts his hips sliding his cock inside her effortlessly.

"Oh god!" She cries out as she orgasms, the pulsing of her core making him follow suit, and he empties himself once more inside her.

Ah yes, paradise indeed, is the last thought running through his mind before sweet oblivion cuts in. They fall asleep in each others' arms, breathing the same air, their fingers weaved together.

* * *

The gentle morning sun shining straight onto his face awakens him from his sleep. He turns around and realizes that the bed is empty. Groaning he lifts his head off the pillow, the mixture of drinks and countless rounds of sex during the night leaving his head and body feeling like they've been hit by a Mack truck.

"Hey...?" He raises his raspy voice and realizes that he doesn't even know her name. Flopping back onto the pillow, he covers his eyes with his arm. Oh fuck, back in hell.

He's alone, he realizes after checking every room of the bungalow. All his stuff is as it's supposed to be, except for a lacking pair of CK boxers and a t-shirt. The black bikini is still hanging in the bathroom, but the scarf is gone.

"She left." He says to himself more than a bit disappointed. "And you stupid son of a bitch, didn't even get her name, not to mention her number."

After getting dressed and hiding his eyes behind aviators, he takes two Advil with a strong cup of coffee and heads to the first seminar of the day.

The day goes quickly, and thankfully the lecturers today are a lot better than yesterday, but his mind is elsewhere. He keeps on scanning the crowds for a glimpse of the angel that entered his paradise, but with no luck.

Maybe I was imagining it all? He starts questioning himself, but the hickey she left on his chest as revenge, and the bikini in his pocket, proves that it really happened.

The second and last night of his stay he walks the beach hoping to find her, but no to avail. He retreats to his bungalow sulking, making even the beach vendor question his sanity. No one sulks at Paradise, it's unheard of.

The following morning dawns, and there's no news. His mood is again in the same gutter it was in the first day, when he found the swamped bathroom.

As he's returning the key to the reception the manager smiles at him.

"Mr. Grey! I hope you enjoyed your replacement room."

"Yeah, it was a nice. Thanks."

The manager frowns at the lack of enthusiasm, but doesn't comment further.

The bumpy ride to the airport doesn't take long. Christian sits in the backseat, staring at the green landscape flying by, the radio blaring a now familiar song. Noche de sexo. He sighs. He can't believe he did it. One night stands have never been his cup of tea.

The airport is crowded and in the tropical heat the barely working air conditioning is just making things worse. The only difference between tourists leaving and arriving is fifty shades of red. A rowdy group of hung-over men block the security check and Christian glances to his watch every now and then, now starting to worry about catching his flight.

Arriving at the gate, on time, the attendant tells him his seating has been changed. There was some issue with a family with kids, it appears. Oh, just fucking great, he curses, now I'll have to sit crammed into a tiny seat instead of sitting in the first row, with the legroom.

Christian stands in the bus that drives the passengers to the plane, the heat is stifling and the day old alcohol reeking from most of the passengers is turning his stomach.

Climbing up the shabby stairs to the plane, he's just happy that this'll soon be over. The attendant greeting the passengers points him towards the front of the plane.

"You're in seat A4, sir. Have a nice flight." She smiles at him but he just nods politely, not even noticing her beauty, all other women merely mediocre compared to _her_.

"Thank god," he mutters as he walks to the first class section, finding his seat by the window in the first row.

Just seconds to take off, and he's still the only one in his row. He's starting to relax, enjoying the wide seat, the legroom and the glass of champagne the flight-attendant gave him, when there's a commotion from the door.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was sure I wasn't going to make it." An oddly familiar voice says.

"We're just closing the door, so please, Miss Steele, go take your seat. A3, in the front."

"Thank you again." The sound of clicking heels approaches, until it stops by Christian's row. A gasp, makes him look at the person standing there.

"You!" They both breathe simultaneously.

"I'm Christian Grey. I don't believe we've been introduced." He smiles, stands and offers her his hand.

"Anastasia Steele. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Christian." Her eyes sparkle as he catches her outstretched hand and lifts it to his lips.

* * *

_**AN: This idea popped into my head, and it wouldn't leave me alone. So here we are.**_

_**Let's make one thing clear, this is fiction! Remember: No having unprotected sex with strangers!**_

_**If you enjoyed this little story, please leave a review and tell me!**_

_**H xx**_


	2. Chapter 2

He kisses the back of her hand gently, twirling her name in his head._ Anastasia Steele, I have to remember that._

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Ms. Steele."

Her eyes still sparkle from the surprise encounter, and her cheeks are flushed from the sprint to catch the plane, but the smile on her lips has faded a bit.

The flight-attendant has finished closing the doors and is now standing behind Anastasia and clearing her throat.

"khm... Ma'am. Please take your seat, we're about to taxi." She says, with a built in smile on her face.

"Oh, of course."

Anastasia lifts her carry-on bag into the overhead compartment, and Christian steals a peek at her breasts jiggling beneath the thin fabric of her satin blouse. He smirks slightly as he sees her nipples puckering against the fabric, in the cool air-conditioned plane. No bra, Ms. Steele, I like it. He drinks the rest of his complimentary drink, closes his eyes and leans back, basking in the memory of her perfect breasts, which he got a mouthful of the other night. Do they taste as delicious without the bucketful of rum and cokes?He wonders,tapping his chin with his fingers as a smile plays on his lips.

"Something amusing Mr. Grey?" Her voice startles him from his daydream.

He shrugs and smiles. "Maybe."

The airplane starts to move. Taking a deep breath, he stares at the colorful buildings of the airport becoming smaller. A knot tightens in the pit of his stomach, as the fact, that they're about to take off, registers.

He grips the armrests, squeezing them so hard his knuckles turn white when the plane suddenly accelerates heavily, pushing his back into his seat, desperate to gain enough speed to lift off before hitting the tropical forest on the end of the short runway.

His stomach drops when the plane leaves the ground, and he shuts his eyes tightly as the top of the palm trees swish by, much too close for comfort.

"I guess you don't fly much, huh?"

He hears her ask, but he doesn't open his eyes. His heart beats so hard, it feels it'll jump out of his chest, and as a bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, he wishes that she wasn't there, seeing him in such a state.

Think of your happy place, he tells himself and draws the image of a moonlit beach, a man and a woman. His fingers tangled in her hair, sand rubbing against his back as she straddles her, burying his dick deep inside her. She tastes salty, after their dip in the sea, as he kisses her neck.

Suddenly Christian feels a cool cloth drying away the sweat from his temples and then a hand laid on his. Her cool fingers work their way in between his, slowly making him loosen his vice like grip of the armrest.

Opening his eyes, he stares at the beautifully manicured hand on his. Slowly he lets his gaze trail along her hand, past the golden bracelet,up her arm, neck, lips, until he is watching into her eyes filled with worry.

"Are you ok?"

He swallows, and nods.

"I'll be fine. I'm just not comfortable with the take offs, or the landings." Nor the time in between, he thinks but doesn't say it out loud.

"It's okay, we're soon at cruising altitude, Christian." She strokes his hand a few times before letting go. The lack of her touch leaves him feeling lost, and the ache in fingers make him realize that his other hand is still holding the armrests in a death grip.

He opens and closes his fists, trying to get the blood back to his fingers.

"You know, I thought I'd never see you again." He says after they've been served croissants and another round of drinks.

"Yeah... Um. I'm sorry." She picks on her croissant, not looking at him.

"For what happened?"

She bites her lip, to stifle a smile as she turns towards him.

"No... That I'm not sorry for. I'm sorry for bolting. I just had to be back in my room by sunrise."

"Mm. Okay?" He slices the croissant open and spreads a dollop of strawberry jam into it.

"Yeah, I had made a deal with my... Um... Mother. That I'd be at my room when she calls."

"Yeah, I get that. If I'd get a dime every time my mother has checked in on me when I've been out..."

"You'd be a millionaire?"

He chuckles.

"Well, probably not quite a millionaire, but relatively wealthy anyway."

"To mother-hens," she toasts; emptying her glass and tapping the corners of her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. "But still. I'm sorry, I didn't leave a note."

"I can't believe, I didn't even know your name." He shakes his head and takes a bite of his jam filled croissant.

"Christian?" Ana says.

"Yes?" He swallows.

"Um... You dropped some jam." She leans over placing one hand on his knee and scoops the jam, with her finger, off his light grey shirt. Their breaths hitch as their gazes meet. Slowly she holds out the finger with the jam, and after a second of hesitation, he opens his mouth and sucks her finger clean. Feeling his warm wet tongue on her finger, her mouth waters andshe bites her lip. He watches her do so, and the sexual tension crackles through the air.

For a moment they break their eye contact and she mumbles, "That'll probably stain." Her last word hardly audible asthey crash their lips onto each other, and lose themselves in a passionate kiss.

His fingers tangle in her hair as he pushes his tongue past her lips. The kiss tastes like strawberries mixed with champagne, a taste neither of them ever want to forget. Her nails scratch against his neck and they moan, not caring if they are heard or seen.

Breathless, their lips part, and Christian crosses his legs, to give more space for his erection already straining against the fabric of his trousers.

Her nipples are hardened nubs against her blouse, and her chest is heaving. She traces her smudged lips with the tips of her fingers and a blush spreads over her cheeks when she meets his gaze.

Her gaze travels down, to the bulge in his pants and instinctively she licks her lips.

The silverware rattles against the plastic trays as the plane suddenly shakes. Within seconds the telltale ping rings as the seatbelt lights are lit. Christian scrambles, desperate to get this belt fastened, but his fingers fail him, as panic invades his body.

Anastasia fastens her own belt and then calmly reaches over and shuts his seatbelt for him, gracing his now semi hard erection through his pants, as if by mistake. She takes his hands in hers, holding them, gently stroking over his knuckles, to affirm her presence. Her touch calms him enough to get his mind off the rocking plane and the panic, and back to the happy place he imagined. On the beach, lying in the sand while she straddles him, naked. Her perfect tits bouncing in his face, as she leans forward. He catches them and licks them, sucking on the nipples and finally biting them gently. Somewhere in the background is the announcement for a bit of turbulence, but Christian is too busy imagining his dick inside her perfect pussy, to notice.

Christian's eyes fly open as her hands leave his, just to be placed on his dick a second later. His eyes dart to her, his mouth opening to speak but words failing him, as the plane shakes again like a car with broken suspension driving on a bumpy road. He closes his eyes, the jumping treys not a visual he needs in his head.

Happy place, happy place, happy place. He repeats the words in his head. A desperate mantra to keep him from panicking. Back on that beach, the waves soak them, as they lie entwined on the sand, her body under his. His dick plunges into her sweet pussy, her nails digging into his back. She feels wet, hot and heavenly. It's his personal paradise, his happy place to keep the panic from taking over.

His eyes are still tightly shut, his fantasy of them together, making him totally oblivious to the fact that Anastasia is stroking his hardening cock, opening his belt and unzipping his pants. She tugs his erection free, now stroking it, skin on skin.

Glancing around, making sure no one is watching, she bends down and at first licks his cock, tasting him, before taking him in as deep as she can. His eyes burst open and he sucks in air as his brain registers what's going on.

"Wha..? Aahh..." His question transforms into a deep moan as she flicks her tongue over the frenulum.

She pumps him with her hand, while sucking him in synch, ignoring the turbulence rocking the plane. His breath becomes shorter, and he starts to thrust, as much as the seatbelt holding him down will allow. His balls are tight, and he squeezes the armrests harder as she picks up the pace, sensing his impending release. With the last tremors of the plane, he throws his head back and grunts, emptying himself inside her, cursing himself for his lack of control while thanking all the deities for getting on this trip and meeting her.

He watches her swallow as she gets up after tucking his now somewhat flaccid member into his pants. A smile is playing on her lips, as she licks them.

"Whoa." He finally manages to speak and he is rewarded by her giggle.

"Quite the wordsmith, aren't you?"

He chuckles.

"Well, you caught me by surprise. I don't know what to say… Except thank you."

"Don't mention it. I read somewhere that attaching something pleasurable to a situation that makes you panic, might help to get through a similar situation later..." She shrugs and tucks a stray hair behind her ear.

"Oh, really? I've just tried imagining 'my happy place'." He makes the quotations with his fingers.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs while observing him, with a spark in her eye.

"Do tell. What's your happy place, Christian?"

"It's... Um." He folds the napkin on the trey, trying to decide whether to tell her the truth or not.

"Come on, you can tell me... Is it a baseball game? Football match? Sitting by your computer? Going to the movies with your..." She stops realizing she really doesn't know much about him.

"No. No. No... And no." He answers lifting his brows to make a point.

"So… Who would you go to the movies with?" She asks, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"With some friends. There's no girlfriend, if that's what you're asking."

She nods, somewhat relieved with his answer. Not giving him any time to ask about her she pushes on. "So, the happy place, tell me."

"You really want to know, don't you?"

"Yes please, with sugar on top."

He sighs, shakes his head and swallows before saying,

"It's on that beach, near the Paradise, the spot where no one could see us."

"Yeah, that was a lovely place..." She drops her sandal and swings her foot, the anklet catching his attention.

"I'm not alone there." He says, his voice hardly louder than a whisper, the tips of his ears burning red.

A sly smile plays on her lips and she cocks her head, lifting her brows.

"Really?"

She uncrosses her legs, turns towards him and leans closer. "Who's with you?" She asks, and her scent invades his senses. Fumbling, he opens his seatbelt and turns towards her. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, he strokes the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. The pull between them almost impossible to resist.

His eyes are fixed on her parted red lips. The smudge of her lipstick stands in testimony that the kiss and the blowjob were not just his imagination. Her eyes dart from his eyes to his lips. Spellbound, at this moment nothing else exists in their universe. The only sound is their hearts thumping. Her tongue darts over her lower lip and he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down under his five o'clock shadow.

"May I take your trays, please?" The flight attendant snaps their bubble and they retreat back into their seats, avoiding looking at the pretty blonde taking away the rest of their snacks.

That moment of magic, now vanished, weighs on them, making small talk extremely awkward. He talks about the weather, and the sights he saw, while imagining her body arching of pleasure beneath him. She asks him questions, keeping the conversation on him, not giving away much of herself. Their eyes lock at times and the undeniable chemistry is there.

Desperate for any distraction Christian bends down and searches for his book in his bag, that's lying between his feet on the floor. He sneaks a peek at her feet, the red nail polish just as bright as that night on the beach. A reflection of light on the floor, catches his attention.

He deserts his bag and reaches over to pick up a single diamond earring lying on the floor beneath Anastasia's chair. Holding it in his hand, he sits back up.

"Is this yours? It was on the floor."

Her hand instantly goes to her ear.

"It must've fallen. Thank you so much for finding it." She takes the earring from his palm, the touch of her fingers on his skin makes his heart flutter. That chemistry, that electric current between them, is as strong as ever.

She hesitates, before pressing it back into his hand.

"Can you please put it on? I never manage to get that hook fastened."

"Sure." Christian answers, his voice sounding much more confident than what he's feeling.

She lifts the armrest from between them, and moves closer, tilting her head and pushing her hair away from the way.

His fingers trembling, he manages to push the earring through the hole in her earlobe. Her skin under his fingers is soft, and her scent intoxicating.

"Damn it" he fumbles with the hook, afraid to pull on her ear.

"Just push the hook through that loop, don't worry, you are not hurting me." She tries to reassure him.

Finally he gets the earring fastened properly and he trails his fingers down the line of her neck. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch, slowly turning her head until their breathing mixes.

The bubble around them is back, and this time no one interrupts their kiss, filled with passion, desire and burning lust.

"I want you." He whispers into her lips between kisses.

"I need you." She pants in return, and he pulls himself away, looking around,

"Here?"

She nods biting her lips.

"How?" Sex on a plane has not crossed his mind before this day.

"Meet me at the first class restrooms." She says, already standing up and walking through the short corridor of the first class. She stops half way there, looks around and for a moment she squints disapprovingly, but then her expression changes and she returns back.

"Occupied?" He asks, confused with her change of mind.

"No, but I just realized, we are alone in first class."

"Really?" He jumps up from his chair and looks around. Indeed, around them are just empty seats after empty seats.

She walks to him, pressing her body against his. Tiptoeing to reach his ear, and after kissing him beneath it, she whispers, "You know? These seats recline all the way down."

"What about the flight attendants." He suddenly feels nervous.

"Don't worry about them." She winks and stepping away from him takes her bag from the overhead storage. She takes out a skirt and returns the bag back up.

"Just a sec." She goes to the toilet, leaving Christian running his hands through his hair, while trying to get himself to grip what they are going to do. His hard-on throbs inside his trousers, and he finds himself stroking it through the fabric.

Anastasia appears from the toilet, wearing the skirt, carrying the capris she was wearing earlier. She finds an attendant and says something to her, yawning widely. The attendant nods and smiles, and within seconds the lights of the first class are dimmed.

Anastasia returns to Christian with a victorious smile on her face.

"Now let's fix our bed and go to sleep." She winks and pushes the buttons that make the two chairs recline to an almost horizontal position.

Christian, still nervous, sits, and then lies down, his feet hanging over the seat. She lies down beside him, her leg on top of his, her head on his arm.

He turns to her, and kisses her, hard and deep. His hands roam her body, quickly realizing that she is naked underneath her wide skirt.

Breaking away from their kiss, he opens his belt and trousers, pushing his boxers down, revealing his hard on which she catches in her hand. They shuffle to their sides, her back to his front, and his hands sneak their way into the skirt and to the patch of trimmed hair above her pussy.

He circles his fingers over her clit and she moans, perking her butt against his erection.

Lifting her skirt just enough to make contact, he strokes her with the tip of his cock from behind, spreading her wetness.

"Anastasia…" Her name a prayer on his lips as he thrusts himself inside her.

"Ah… Christian." She replies moaning quietly.

They move quietly, aware of the flight attendants assuming that they are asleep. He tugs on her nipples now hard as rocks and she bites her finger not to moan out loud. He thrusts faster, his balls tightening. Her hips meet his thrusts, and she catches his hand from her breasts and places it inside her skirt, on top of her clitoris.

Her fingers on top of his, he massages her most sensitive spot until she mewls, as her whole body spasms of the force of the orgasm tearing through her. His cock gets milked dry by her pussy and for a while his world goes blank.

"My… God…" She pants, the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her.

"My Goddess." He replies, pressing a gentle kiss on her neck, making her shiver.

He tucks himself inside his boxers and closes his trousers. He hands her the towel, with Paradise embroidered, from his bag and she wipes herself, not wanting to leave sperm stains on the seats, before putting on underwear and straightening her skirt. She snuggles into him and they dose off. Sated, satisfied and exhausted.

"Ma'am, Sir… Time to wake up, we are about to land soon and you have to put up your seats." The flight attendant is standing by their makeshift bed.

Christian slowly opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings. It takes a few seconds before he get where he is, and he sits up, jolting Anastasia from her sleep as well.

"What?" She mumbles.

"Anastasia, wake up, we're landing soon." She opens her eyes and sits up.

"I have to go change." She says, her expression dead serious, she grabs her capris and handbag before heading to the toilet.

Christian presses the buttons and watches the chairs raise back up. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. Holy hell. This is one flight I will never forget, he thinks as he folds the stained towel into his bag and pulls the zipper shut.

Anastasia returns from the toilet, her hair in order, lipstick redone. She quickly returns the skirt into her bag and sits down, just in time as the captain announces that they are starting the decent and the seatbelt light is turned on.

Christian stares at her, and she glances at him, with a tight smile on her lips. They both sit quiet, but she catches his hand in hers, keeping him calm until the plane finally touches down on the tarmac at Los Angeles international airport.

"So where are you going from here?" She asks as the plane is taxiing towards the terminal.

"I'm going north, Portland." One more fucking flight, which will probably not include any fucking, he seethes. "You?"

"I'm getting off here, LA baby…" She smiles wistfully.

"Well, I've got five hours to kill…" He says... Looking at her, hoping she would take the hint.

"I'm sorry, but my… mother is expecting me." She answers, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, ok." He frowns and stares at his nails for a moment. Her rejection stings, but hey, it's not like he isn't used to it. And besides overprotective mothers, are not to be messed with.

"Well… If you ever come to Portland, or Washington State, call me?" He digs for his card, giving it to her.

"Sure thing, you do the same if you come to LA." She smiles, grabs another of his cards and scribbles down her number on the backside and gives it back to him.

They are the first to leave the plane. And after exchanging a somewhat awkward, chaste kiss while going down in the elevator together, they part, Anastasia leaving the terminal as Christian walks to the Starbucks overlooking the lobby.

"One Tall Caffè Misto, thanks." He pays for his coffee and stares at the people exciting the airport, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Suddenly he sees her. She walks, her head held high, pulling her carry-on bag behind her. Her hair shines in the early morning sun, her tanned skin absolutely perfect. Christian snaps a picture of her with the camera on his phone. He needs something concrete to remember her by. She stops, smiles widely and waves at someone. His eyes dart into the direction, trying to get a look at whoever it is that has come to meet her.

Oh, it's her dad, he thinks as he sees the older gentleman dressed in light trousers and a black shirt, waving on the other side of the passageway. She doesn't stop smiling as she approaches him, and her steps become faster until she's almost running. Of course she's happy to see her dad, Christian thinks, takes a sip of his coffee and blinks twice as he sees the man envelope Anastasia in his arms, bending down and kissing her on the lips, sliding his hand over her bottom.

* * *

_**AN: **_

_**The reception of this story has been awesome so far! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**_

_**So, what did you think of part two? Let me know.**_

_**H xx**_


	3. Chapter 3

Lifting his jaw off the floor, Christian watches her walk out with the man; his tanned arm wrapped around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. Christian turns his focus back to his coffee, but for a moment he just stares at it, as if he's trying to figure out what one is supposed to do with a cup. She's taken? She took me, and she's taken? The thoughts bounce around his head, but he is numb and confused, too shocked to be angry or sad. He never asked her, he realizes and finally lifts the cup to his lips.

Surviving the following flight, he admits to himself that she, free or not, had helped him. When panic started to raise its ugly head, he just thought about the flight with her, and the way she magically made the turbulence disappear by sucking his dick. The only downside was, that the memory gave him a hard-on, which he had to hide from the over-active kid and his mother sitting in the same row.

Finally getting off the plane, he follows the crowd through the airport. Glancing towards the wall of glass, he realizes, that the weather fits his mood perfectly. The heavy grey clouds hang from the skies, looking as if they'll plummet crushing the whole city beneath them any second.

The first raindrops hit his face as he steps outside the terminal in Portland. Just fucking great, he mutters and hunches running to the parking lot, digging for the keys in his pocket on the way. Pushing the key into the lock and turning it twice before it clicks, he opens the door, throws his duffle bag onto the passenger seat and sits behind the wheel pulling the door shut behind him.

Key into the ignition, and then turn. "Oh, come on, you piece of crap, start!" The engine lags before finally starting with a roar. Letting go of the key, he releases a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Getting the jumper cables to start the car, would've been a bitch in this weather, he thinks as he watches the streams of water dance down the windshield.

Driving through the parking lot, and out to the road leading to the I-205, he sinks down in his seat, not wanting to be seen in the red Honda with way too many miles on it. I'd give my left testicle to have my Audi back, he thinks as he turns the windshield wipers up a notch.

Half an hour later, he parks in front of the garage by the two story house with the chipped paint. He grabs his bag and runs to the porch where the lights are on. Well no surprises there, she's bound to be up waiting for me, he thinks as he searches for his keys.

Christian enters without knocking, and the smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls meets him at the door. He tries to sneak upstairs, but her voice makes him stop in his tracks.

"Christian? Is that you?"

He sighs before answering, "Yes, mother."

Knowing that she'll either ambush him in the foyer, or risk her bad knee and back, climbing up the stairs, if he doesn't go and talk to her, he decides to get this over and done with.

He drops his bag on the third step and opens the zipper getting out the painted souvenir plate he got at one of the crowded shops at the airport on the Caymans. His eyes land on the _Paradise_ embroidered towel and he makes a mental note to go do the laundry, first thing after saying hi to his mother.

She sits by the Formica table, her folded crossword magazine in front of her. Her glasses are propped on the top of her head, drawing Christian's attention to her hair, that has become a lot greyer since her health problems trapped her in the house. Her blue eyes have lost the bright spark they once had, but besides that, she's keeping it together quite nicely for her age.

"Hi mom." He walks to her, bends down and pecks her on the cheeks. "Something smells good."

"I made cinnamon rolls, to celebrate your return."

"I was away only four days, mom." He says, but doesn't push it, knowing her days feel like an eternity when she's all alone.

"Well, it felt longer. Let me look at you... You look different."

He fights to keep his poker face. She can't see, that I have had sex, can she? He asks himself.

"Yeah well, a few days in the sun does wonders."

"It certainly does. You look good, relaxed." She pauses and folds her arms with a frown. "Too skinny though."

He rolls his eyes.

"Well, these will take care of that." He says reaching for a cinnamon roll and taking a bite, humming appreciatively.

"So?" Ella leans back in her chair. "How was your trip?"

"The conference was ok, but the room I got had water damage." He pours himself coffee, as she goes on and on, about how a friend of someone or another, once had the exact same predicament.

"But I got a private bungalow at the beach as a replacement."

Her jaw drops, but then she smiles widely. "Well isn't that lovely!"

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad. It had a great view." He smirks and thinks of all the women in bikinis, or less, on the beach. There were some seriously well-formed women over there, although all of them seemed mediocre compared to _her_ though.

After the latest updates on the neighbors' lives and the usual bitching about his sister never calling, Christian gives Ella her present and excuses himself.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he goes upstairs, throws his bag on the queen sized bed, and collects the clothes that need to be cleaned. Holding the black bikini, that he forgot to give back to Anastasia, in his hands, he sits on the edge of the bed and flops down onto his back. Pulling out his Lumia and playing with it for a moment, he finds the picture he took of her. He zooms in and looks at her smile, the content expression on her face as she pulls her bag, while walking through the airport. Christian can't help but feeling utterly baffled. What was it all about? Was it a holiday romance? A one night stand and a permanent membership to the mile high club? But who the hell was that guy at the airport? Was she playing me? Using me? Should I feel offended? He snorts and chuckles thinking that she can use him like that any day. He can't remember when his balls would've felt so light.

The business card where she scribbled her name falls from his pocket as he gets undressed to hit the showers before going to bed. He picks it up, and traces the marks of the ballpoint pen. _Anastasia. _He stares at the writing and the small heart drawn next to her name, for a moment that feels like eternity. A nervous knot tightens in his stomach as he picks up his phone and types in the numbers. His finger hovers over the call button, but he can't make himself press it. What would he say to her? Hey thanks for the BJ and the quickie, mind telling me who the fuck you were kissing just minutes after our goodbye? No that'll do no good, we didn't promise each other anything, so just leave it, he tells himself. Take it for what it was… Amazing sex with the perfect woman, no strings attached. Staring at the phone, he can't quite make himself erase the number either, so he saves it under the name Paradise. Avoiding writing her name is just a precautionary thing as he doesn't want Ella finding out about her. Well, not before he figures out what the hell it all was about anyway.

* * *

Back at work, he tries desperately to avoid the inquiries about his trip. It was ok, nothing special, he finds himself answering them. The women by the coffee station _Ooh_ and _Aah_ admiring his tan, some outright flirt – but he ignores them, even with more determination than usual. Pouring a large cup of coffee, he excuses himself and saunters back to hide in his cubicle. He shoves some papers around, before his curiosity gets the better of him, and he Googles Anastasia Steele. There's not much, a Facebook profile, and some blog mentioning her at a fundraiser, the usual. He sips his coffee and wonders what he was expecting? Not wanting to raise any suspicions, he avoids clicking the links and opening the image search – his screen being in plain sight from at least four desks.

Elliot, one of the first guys who talked to him when he started working at Tech Inc. comes over to his desk.

"My man! How was the Paradise?" he asks while sitting on the corner of Christian's desk.

"It was… Interesting." Christian tries to hide the smile creeping up on his lips.

"Interesting you say?" Elliot smirks. "I bet."

"Yeah, I have to say, the view from my room was pretty nice."

"Towards to pool?"

"Nope, the beach." Christian lifts his brows and nods, holding his hands open on the sides of his chest, as if catching imaginary breasts.

"Topless?"

"What do you think?"

Elliot whistles and laughs, punching Christian's shoulder.

"Well? Did you get any? And more importantly, did you get me anything?"

Christian leans down to get a plastic bag from his bottom drawer, and throws it to Elliot.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells. You should know that." Christian smirks.

"You did! You son of a bitch, was she any good?"

"A-fucking-mazing." Christian says with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Elliot opens the bag and holds its contents with a chuckle.

"I should've guessed." He grabs the t-shirt and pulls it on.

"You look like an idiot, you know that?" Christian looks at the shirt with the big bold text _My friend went to Paradise and all I got was this lousy t-shirt._

"I don't care - you got laid, and I got this." Elliot straightens the shirt over his stomach. "I know it's been a while since bitcherella, so I have to ask this. You did remember to wrap the sausage, right? Or did you bring more souvenirs than a t-shirt with you?"

Fuck! Christian blanches but manages to hide it.

"Of course." He lies, his hands suddenly sticky and his throat dry.

"Good thing. You don't want your dick falling off now that you finally started using it again, right?"

Christian fakes a chuckle but Elliot doesn't notice, he's already up, showing off his t-shirt to the group loitering by the elevators.

On his lunch break Christian sneaks away and calls his doctor, arranging an appointment to be tested. He closes his eyes and listens to the lecture on how a grown man should know better. Christian doesn't argue. He knows he was irresponsible.

Days seem to be merging into one another, and the weeks pass. Every time he goes to the shower, he inspects himself for any changes, cursing his stupid drunken decision to fuck a stranger without a condom. The call he dreaded and waited for finally comes, and a weight falls off his chest. He was lucky, he's clean.

The number saved on his phone still tempts him, but he can't make himself call her. It's been weeks, and he should've called her, or she should've called him, but neither one has. He tries to forget her, but it no use, he can't stop thinking about her. His nights are consumed with her, in his dreams they have the most amazing sex, usually on the beach or on the plane. A few mornings he woke up covered in jiz; too many mornings, more than he'd like to admit, he headed straight to the shower and, like a desperate teenager, jerked off while imagining her on his cock.

In about a month he gets a call. His heart picks up its pace as he sees who is calling. It's again a call he has been waiting for, it's the key to a brighter future he hopes.

"Christian Grey?" The female voice on the other end asks.

"Yes, that's me."

"We received your application for the position in Seattle."

"Yes?"

"We were very impressed and would like to meet you in person. Can you make it to Seattle... Say, the day after tomorrow?"

Christian jumps and does a soundless fist pump.

"Yes, of course, what time do you need me there?"

"Mr. Callahan will also be attending the meeting, and according to his calendar he should be free at eleven."

"Eleven it is then." Christian gets butterflies in the pit of his stomach, Callahan is after all the new CEO of Tech Inc.

"Yes!" He shouts and jumps, doing a little dance around his desk, after ending the call.

"What are you yelling about?" Elliot jogs over. "Did you call her? Did she call you?"

"I wish! But this is better! Seattle called, they want yours truly to be there the day after tomorrow."

"Way to go Chris! That's awesome!" Elliot high-fives and bumps shoulders with Christian.

The celebratory feeling dissipates almost as soon as it started as Christian thinks about the practical details of his trip. Fuck, the Honda will never make it. And a decent rental car would be too expensive.

"Hey, El... Could I borrow your car?"

"Something wrong with old rusty?" Elliot asks with a grin

"Just the usual, she's old and rusty. I don't think the old lass has it in her to get to Seattle and back anymore."

"True, you'd be standing with your thumb up on the side of the interstate... And hitchhiking is a bitch, all those horny housewives looking for fresh meat." Elliot winks.

"So can I borrow it?"

"Anytime, you know that." Elliot looks at him and gets serious.

"So when are you going to change your old rusty?"

"She's mom's not mine." Christian corrects him. "But I'll change, as soon as I can. I should be debt free by next month."

"That's good Chris, you deserve better than a Honda from the last millennium anyway..."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Hey what do you say we go out tonight? To celebrate? Besides, they're showing the Champions League finals at Phil's, and I've got seats with our names, right by the tap. My treat."

"Sure, why not." The decision is made very easy, by the fact that Phil's is usually packed with drunk, horny, barely legal European chicks on soccer nights. It's about time I got her out of my system already, Christian thinks.

* * *

Waking up the following morning, with the mother of all hangovers, Christian curses himself for accepting Elliot's invitation. He decides on keeping his eyes shut as opening them would be pure agony. Turning around in his bed, his hand lands on something... No. Not something. Someone. _What the...?_ He thinks, realizing that even thinking hurts. Tentatively, he opens his eyes to see who the hell he is sleeping with.

As his sight gets focused in the dim room, he realizes that it's Elliot. He flops down onto his pillow, relieved for not having bedded another stranger. The night at the Paradise was the first and the last time for that.

"Fuuuuuck." Elliot groans, and judging by the sound of it, he's in just as much agony as Christian.

"Shut the fuck up Elliot. Going out was your idea." Christian mutters sitting up and leaning his head against his hands.

"What the hell am I doing here?" Elliot asks as he realizes where he is.

"Fuck if I know. I'm just relieved you've got clothes on..." Christian mutters as he stands up and slouches his way to the bathroom, every step feeling like being hit in the head with a jackhammer.

While the water pours over him, he tries to remember what they did last night. A lot of drinking, that's what. Getting shit from Elliot, as he didn't take up on the offer from that blonde with the huge tits, trying to push her tongue down his throat. More beer. A whole keg judging by the beating of his head.

Once showered Christian goes downstairs and loads the coffeemaker, adding a few extra spoonful of freshly ground coffee beans to make it strong enough to beat his headache.

As he sits by the table waiting for the coffee to brew he checks his phone. One missed call. Probably mom he guesses, but looks at the call log anyway. He stares at his phone and blinks, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and then opening them again, making sure that he is seeing what he thinks he's seeing. The caller: Paradise.

He swallows, as his stomach suddenly turns on him. He inhales deeply through his nose and blows through his mouth to calm himself, and basically to avoid throwing up.

"Dude, you look like shit." Elliot saunters into the kitchen and heads to the cupboard with the mugs, looking surprisingly fresh.

"It's not just the hangover, El." Christian says and shows him his phone. Elliot's eyes widen with realization.

"Paradise, as in…" Elliot waits for Christian to finish the sentence.

"Her." The word a mere breathe from his lips.

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Call her back."

Christian closes his eyes and inhales, counts to ten and exhales.

"OK. I'm doing this. I can't fucking believe I'm doing this." He mutters as he presses the call button.

He lifts the phone to his ear and he bottom of his world drops. "The number you have dialed cannot be reached…." Christian groans as he places his phone on the table.

"No luck?"

Christian shakes his head. "The number can't be reached." The paradise at his fingertips but he can't reach it.

"Sorry, man..." Elliot claps him on the shoulder.

"Morning boys." Ella walks in, wearing her pink bathrobe, but stops as she sees their state. "Long night?"

"Morning Mrs. G." Elliot gets up and gives her the chair he was sitting in.

Christian just mutters a "Morning," staring into his mug.

"What's wrong with him?" Ella asks, looking at Elliot. "Lady trouble?"

Christian coughs as he sips his coffee down the wrong tube. Fucking hell, Elliot will tell her, he's sure of it. He gets up and scrambles to the downstairs bathroom, coughing so hard he's afraid that he'll puke any second.

"Sorry, Mrs. G." Elliot mimes his mouth being locked and the key being thrown away.

"But it's a woman, isn't it?" Ella asks. "Ever since he went to that conference... He's been different. It's like the fog, brought on by Mia leaving him, has finally lifted."

Elliot nods. "I promised him I wouldn't tell, but I'll give you this much. It's certainly not a bloke."

* * *

Next morning, bright and early, Christian sits behind the wheel of the light grey Bimmer, on his way towards Seattle. Trailing his hands over the black leather interior, he enjoys the feeling of having a real car to drive. Thank you, Elliot.

Arriving ahead of time he finds a parking lot a few blocks away from Tech HQ. He walks to the office enjoying the buzz of the city, the important looking businesspeople crowding the sidewalks, the occasional taxis stopping and dropping off people.

Entering the lobby, he fights the urge to whistle. The HQ is modern and light, welcoming but at the same time highly professional.

Christian straightens his tie and collects his nerves before walking to the desk to sign in.

"Christian Grey from Tech Inc. Portland, I have a meeting with Mr. Callahan at eleven."

The receptionist gives him a well-trained smile while she taps on her computer.

"Welcome Mr. Grey. Here's your pass, you will need to keep it on you during your stay at the office." The receptionist slides over the plastic tag with his name and picture. "The meeting will be on the third floor. Room 305. Go ahead, the lifts are over there." The receptionist points to the back wall.

"Thank you." Christian nods politely before heading towards the lifts.

The third floor is just as modern as the lobby, but with more evidence of people actually working there. There are the occasional piles of paper on the desks, the faint chatter of people taking a break. I would definitely like it here, Christian thinks as he walks past a semi clattered desk with an open laptop with a tropical beach screensaver.

He stands by the open door of room 305. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Alright, this is it, he collects all his courage and knocks before stepping inside.

The few people standing there talking with each other, become quiet as he enters.

He instantly feels like an intruder, obviously interrupting something. A few long seconds pass before the middle aged woman, standing with the younger women, finally connects with her professional side. "Mr. Grey? I'm Susanna Waters, we spoke on the phone."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you. I was afraid I got the wrong room. I was expecting Mr. Callahan."

A frown passes her face.

"Yes well, unfortunately, he's running a bit late, there was an incident with the new marketing manager. Mr. Callahan should be joining us any minute, although he told us to go ahead and start the meeting without him. He was really impressed with your portfolio, so this is basically, already a done deal. If you are up for the challenge, of course."

"I'm up for it! When can I start?" Christian says, not caring a rat's ass that he sounds too eager to get the job. He smiles widely, already planning which car to get with his fatter paycheck.

Half way through the agenda, there's a knock on the door. The door opens before anyone has the chance to reply and in steps a tanned man, with a grey suit and a black shirt.

"I apologize for being late… Mr. Grey I presume? I'm James Callahan, it's a pleasure to meet you."

So this is the CEO of Tech, he's surprisingly youthful for his age, Christian thinks as he shakes Mr. Callahan's hand.

"We've been going through our expectations and Mr. Grey's - Christian's job description." Mrs. Waters speaks up and gets an approving nod from Mr. Callahan.

"Well, let's get down to the nitty gritty then." The CEO takes over the meeting.

Later on, walking through the corridors of Tech Inc. Seattle, Christian can't help smiling. This is the chance he has been waiting for. His chance to redeem himself, to prove to the world that he hasn't lost his touch. The business world has been looking down on him, ever since his partner took off, after emptying the bank account of their company, leaving Christian broke and up to his neck in debts. Not to mention lonely, as his so called girlfriend chose to run with the money too.

He passes a Starbucks on his way and decides to treat himself to a Grande Latte, just to celebrate.

He picks a seat by the window, and looks at the building of Tech Inc. just across the street. Soon I'll be one of those people, he thinks to himself, as he watches a group of people obviously returning to the office from their lunch break. A woman catches his eye, her black skirt hugging her every curve as she walks down the street in her heels, her hair hanging halfway down her back, the curls bouncing with each step.

Oh, yes. I'll definitely enjoy working here, Christian grins as he sips his coffee.

He watches her navigate through the crowd, until she stops by the curb and waves a taxi. She looks around, before she disappears into the car. But that second her face was turned towards Christian, he felt the air being sucked from his lungs, the resemblance is uncanny. Get a grip Grey, you are obviously losing it, he chastises himself.

That night he dreams of her again, but now they're not on the beach but in Seattle, on that very spot he saw her doppelganger. He catches up with her, bends her over and lifts her skirt, just to find her wet and ready. He fucks her, hard and desperate until coming with such intensity it wakes him up. "Fuck! Now I've got to change the sheets again," he mutters, turns to his side and falls back asleep.

* * *

_**AN: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! **_

_**Have a wonderful week! **_

_**H xx**_


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